You're My Weakness
by LogicBomb.32
Summary: AU Brittana  They're not supposed to be, because to be is to be putting her love in danger and Santana could never do that.  But Brittany is the love of her life and nothing can keep them apart, not even Santana's common sense. Strong T.


**Title: You're My Weakness **

**Author: Logicbomb.32 **

**Ships: Santana-Brittany **

**Summary: (AU Brittana) They're not supposed to be, because to be is to be putting her lover in danger and Santana could never do that. But Brittany is the love of her life and nothing can keep them apart, not even Santana's common sense. **

**Authors Note: For some strange reason I find myself unable to write anything other than what I hope is somewhat in character Brittana. Not that I'm complaining, I love those two characters to death (and their respective actresses aren't half bad either). Anyway…I don't know if it's just me but I've been getting a lot of AU ideas for this ship, more than I do for other fandoms and this piece is the first time I've written one of my ideas.**

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><p><strong>READ BELOW IF YOU WANT TO KNOW THE AU IDEA...<strong>

**OR SKIP IF YOU WANT TO FIGURE IT OUT…**

**Authors Note (2): The basic context is that Santana is an assassin and due to the nature of her work having a public relationship with Brittany could put both of them in danger. Unwilling to risk her girlfriends life, Santana and Brittany rarely see each other, but when they do…**

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><p>I shouldn't be here.<p>

Funny thing is I say that to myself every time and every time I say it I know I could never stay away. Away from you, away from us, even if it only exists for a night, I could never stay away.

I hear the music thudding through the floor and I smile, you always did say you were going to get this place soundproofed. A door slams shut behind me as I make my way to your dance studio and I jump, hand moving instinctively for the gun tucked away in the back of my dark jeans. But there is no threat here, I have to remind myself of that as I walk up the last flight of stairs. It's hard, to push away my instincts after so long of living off of them.

You still have a class, hip-hop if I really had to guess, but the Jay-Z song blasting is kind of a dead give away. I put my hand on the glass door that leads to the studio and for a moment I hesitate. I know what my presence does to you, does to us, but I'm addicted to you in every way and even if I tried, I could never ignore you. I'm too in love with you to ever leave you permanently.

And it's that fact that makes leaving all that much worse because what we are should never have been, and every visit I make, every text you send, is risking what shouldn't, but is. I push open the door quietly and slip inside, preferring to take a few moments to watch you before you notice me.

That's another thing about you, for all my skills I have acquired in my, uhm, line of work I can never hide from you. So it's no surprise that I've barely been in the studio for forty seconds when our eyes meet. My heart jolts and I suddenly remember why I keep coming back to you. It's in the way your eyes suddenly flash excitement, joy, and pure love as you try and drag your attention back to your eager class. It's in the way the smile falls on your lips like it stumbled down from somewhere and just landed there. It's in the way that I have to sit down because just that smile makes my heart go crazy and my knees go weak.

God I've missed you.

The next seventeen minutes go by in pure agony, we both want nothing more than for it to be eight o' clock and you can kick your students out and we can finally be alone. But it's easier for me because I'm content to watch you dance and teach and all together try to avoid staring at me. Well, content as I can be.

The blood of my latest job is still on my hands, even with the distance and the scumbags record, taking a life has never been easy. I can hear the screams of the terrified onlookers as they flung themselves to the ground, mother shielding her child, husband protecting his wife. It reminds me of what I've just done, reminds me now of what I have done.

But for now that part of my life doesn't exist, for now that part of my life is closed off behind walls and gates, guarded so you don't have to see the monster I really am. You already know me though, and that's the part I will never understand. You know what I do for a living, you know who I do it and why we can never actually be together and still you love me. You love me like I'm normal, like I'm not a hired assassin but instead like I'm some kindergarten teacher or something innocent.

I will never get it.

Finally, after what I'm sure was an eternity you are able to dismiss your class. Of course, like the universe hadn't already fucked with us enough, half the damn class seems to hang behind. I'm sure it's all for a good reason, you being an amazing dance instructor and all, but it's all I can do to remain seated. I pull out my phone, my latest burner, and enter the number I know by heart into the new message box

_Do they know who I am or is the universe just screwing with us? _

I hesitate before pressing send, deciding that another message was more fitting

_I need you. _

I slip the phone back into my pocket, waiting patiently as you hurriedly talk to your students trying to get their problems solved as fast as possible. I see you jump ever so slightly and I know you've phone is vibrating….although where you're keeping it is quite the puzzle. You're skin tight leggings and turquoise tank top don't leave much room for phone storage.

But it worked, your phone is suddenly in your hand and your eyes widen as you gather the full implications of what exactly _I need you _means. If only life was this easy.

Within three minutes your students are gone and finally, finally, finally, we have the studio to ourselves. At first you ignore my presence, moving to lock the studios front door and drag the blinds down across the glass. I'm content to follow you, removing my shoes as we enter the actual studio, and watch as you straighten and tidy the area. But eventually, and eventually comes rather quickly this time, I can't take it anymore and I know neither can you.

"Hi."

You turn around slowly, as if trying to suppress something inside of you but as soon as our eyes meet you're running across the studio and jumping into my arms. I catch you, not easily mind you, but with enough poise that we don't fall backwards or anything. Your legs wrap around me and your hands tangle in my hair as my own hands splay across your back, holding you too me "I missed you." You mumble, lips crashing and pulling tenderly.

Fuck I missed this.

I missed you.

We continue with this for a moment before you drop down to the floor and our fingers tangle together "When did you get back?" you ask into the silence and for a beat it's an awkward silence.

I hate talking about my work.

"This morning." I answered.

I had spent all day making sure I wasn't being followed, tracked, traced or otherwise placing you in danger. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me. We came too close once before and ever since I've promised myself, never again.

I know you have a million questions for me, ones that I've refused to answer so many times in the past that maybe, just maybe, this time you won't ask. But I know you better than that, somewhere along this line we walked together, you got it into your head that I was perfect. That beyond my career choice I was who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. I may never understand that part of you, but I'm not complaining.

You are, in many respects, the only reason I still do this job. The only reason I continue to accept contracts and remove from this earth those who have crossed lines. You are also the only reason I stay sane. Many in my particular field lose themselves to the lives they have taken and end up eating a bullet. But I have a cause and I have a rock.

You.

You are my rock, or more fittingly, my unicorn.

"Where were you?"

"London."

"Really?" You ask, giving me that look you give when you know I'm lying.

"Yes." I say, wanting you to just believe it, but knowing you won't.

You're silent for a moment, leading me over to the non-mirrored side of the room and sinking down against it, dragging me with you "Why won't you tell me?" you ask, even though we've had this conversation a milino times.

"It's dangerous." I say, with all honesty "It's dangerous for me to even be here, to see you, I don't want to put you in any more danger."

"Fuck danger." You say, the curse word mildly surprising coming from you mouth "I'm not going to shout it to the whole neighborhood San, I just want to know where you've been."

"Why?" I ask softly "Why do you want to know so badly?"

"Because that way, when I'm in bed alone I can imagine all the adventures we'd have if I were with you."

You're answer is so simple, and so apparently obvious, it brings forward emotions I've tried to ignore. And for once, for once I can't lie to you, or push the question away "I was in Paris." I say, my voice barely above a whisper as I fight with my emotions

"I love Paris." You say "The lights, the people, the food." You smile and I concentrate on ingraining that smile into my mind.

"They do have good food." I agree, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you to me "And the lights are pretty."

"But?" you say, sensing that the statement wasn't done yet.

"Not all the people in France could compare to you." I say, surprising myself with the honesty in my voice.

"Oh really?" you reply

"Really." I confirm, bringing my lips to yours.

Next thing I know you're straddling me and your lips are leaving a searing hot trail down my neck. My hands and scrabbling to remove your tank top and my jacket is being slid across the floor. Your hands travel lower, tracing patterns across my back and I moan, leaning up into you.

Then you stiffen as your hands hit my gun, the one tucked away in the back fo my jeans. You know how to shoot a gun, I taught you that and I know you have a gun because I bought you one but I'm confused as to why you're suddenly so stiff and silent.

I don't move, letting you work through this (whatever it was) and follow your movements with my eyes as you slide my shirt up and pull out the gun. You hold it with one hand, clicking the safety off with the other and I remain motionless. I don't know why seeing you, my gun in your hands, makes me so nervous. Maybe it's the line between my two loves blurring and blending, maybe it's because you have a loaded gun in your hand…I'm not really sure.

My pulse is racing uncontrollably fast as you curl your finger around the trigger and let the gun rest there "Britt" I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them "I didn't mean to-" I start to apologize for bringing it, for not removing it before we reunited, but you stop me.

"Don't." you say, your words not cold or harsh "I'm not mad at you for walking around packing." You continue, my eyes still glued to the gun and yours still glued to me "Do you carry this with you everywhere?"

I'm not sure what you're getting at but decide to go along with it "Yeah." I say "Basically."

You nod, taking this information in and I see some sort of decision being made as you click the safety back on and push the gun across the floor away from us "I'm a little jealous." You say, and whatever just happened aside, I see a familiar twinkle in your eye "That gun spends more time with you than I do."

"It's not nearly as hot as you though." I say, watching as you lean forward again and pull my tank top off agonizingly slow.

We're both half naked now, clad in jeans or leggings and bras, but still far to much clothing in my opinion "Every time I see you" I say in between kisses "you get hotter." I continue, sucking at your neck and biting gently "It's unbelievable."

You grin and let out a breathy laugh "It's all this dancing, I've got this amazing girlfriend who I barely get to see and when I do, well, we go for a long time and Ive gotta stay in shape."

I can't help but laugh at that, even if you officially labeling me as your girlfriend scares me shitless "Really? This amazing girlfriend huh?"

"Yeah" you reply, still pining me to the wall but fumbling with my bra strap "In fact, she might be here any minute, rumor has it she's back in town today."

"I should go then." I say, motioning to push you off of me, creating just enough separation that both of us are desiring the contact again

In one motion you grab both of my hands and pin them above my head, pulling us to our feet as you do so "She wont mind."

"You think so?" I pant, with her hands pinning mine above me there is much less contact that I need right now.

"I know so."

You're hands drop and tangle in my hair, one of then lowering to the button of my jeans. I scramble to help you but find you pushing me away "I want to." You say, probably so you can tease me one agonizing moment at a time.

Button undone, our eyes meet and not breaking eye contact, both of your hands are at my waist, pushing the jeans down and trailing your thumbs down my quads. Even this small touch sends shivers up and down my spine. Finally the jeans are at my ankles, but you don't move to remove them, leaving them where they are. You don't move from your spot on your knees either, rising up ever so slightly, letting your lips brush lightly across my abs.

I moan.

Like I said, I need you.

And just as you grab the waistline of by underwear with your teeth and my hands find themselves in your hair, there's a knock on the door.

A loud knock.

"The fuck?" I hiss, grabbing my pants and trying to pull them up and cover myself simultaneously "You weren't serious about the-" I start to ask, for a moment believing that you actually did have a real girlfriend, who was now here, waiting outside your studio.

"Stay here." You reply, a million times calmer than I am at the moment, though I'm not sure how.

You pull your shirt back on over your head and before you head towards the door you grab my wrist "Calm down." You say gently "It's probably just a student who forgot something."

Or it could be someone here to kill you, but I nod and you let go and walk towards the door. I bend down and grab my gun, snapping the safety off and waiting, I know it's not healthy for me to be this paranoid…but this is you we're talking about. And I will gut whoever tries to hurt you.

I hear the door opening and I catch my breath, listening "Hi, Ms, Pierce, Brittany, I'm so sorry, I just left my phone in one of the cubbies and it has my train card with it, so I had to run back."

"Rabecca it's fine, I was just getting ready to go, I'm glad you caught me."

"Me too, my mom would have been pissed if she'd had to come all the way down here pick me up."

"I can imagine." You say and I hear this Rebecca person walking back out the door.

"I'll see you at class on Monday." She shouts as she runs down the hall

And then there's silence, I set the gun back down and let out a long sigh as you reenter the room "See" you say, pulling me into your arms "nothing to worry about."

Our lips meet again and I smile, yeah, I definitely missed this. Because all of the worlds greatest cities are actually quite boring if you're in them alone. I could spend the rest of my life in this tiny dance studio and as long as I had you, I'd be fine. But it's only temporary, and somewhere in the back of mind I know this, and you know this, and that pushes us that much harder because we don't have forever. We have now, and only now.

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><p><em>Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? <em>

_I had a lot of fun writing this to be honest and I could see myself writing more for this AU idea. If you guys want to of course. _

_Thanks, _

_Logicbomb.32_


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